The Truth About Edward: A Tell All by Emmett Cull
by Daughter of the Black
Summary: Emmett starts penning a tell all about his very special brother: Edward. The real truth behind everyone's 'favorite' vampire.


Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight it belongs to Stephanie Meyer.

A/N: I'm a bit sick of all of the Edward Cullen fanatics—so I decided to favor Emmett and drama up Eddie old boy. _Dedicated to Meemo for her birthday, love Mookey._

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The Truth About Edward: A Tell All by Emmett Cullen

_1988-Russia_

It all started on a January afternoon. It had just snowed and Edward had insisted on having a snowball fight—despite that fact that he _knew_ I would use iceballs instead of the snow kind. Well, no one ever accused him of being brilliant. Which in itself is a bit surprising, I mean for a guy, err-vampire who can read anybody's mind, he hasn't quite absorbed much. Edward's like that really cheesy paper toweling that falls apart when dry.

So where was I? Oh, right. The Iceball Incident of '88. Being that we were in Russia, those of us who could actually grasp the language also known as everyone except for Edward. Well okay, Jasper, Alice, and I only had the rudimentary things down. Like asking where the nearest mall was, or the nearest bar.

Edward on the other hand, got lost after a few very simple hand directions—and then pissed off the locals. And when I say pissed off, I mean it was sort of like those vampire horror movies. You know, 'Grab your torch and pitchforks!' pissed. It took Carlisle claiming he had tourettes to calm the locals down—well and Esme putting him on a leash. You know, like they have for toddlers.

Right, so since school was out for the month due to unseasonable weather. And by unseasonable, I mean that Alice and Rose wouldn't stand outside in a line for limited edition Manola Blahniks. So there I was, freezing my undead ass off in the middle of a snowstorm that the Volturi would think would make a good punishment, waiting for Edward to 'kick my ass'. Suffice to say, Edward hadn't made the wisest of decisions in challenging me to this duel to the 'death'.

Again, I have to say, no one ever accused Edward of being brilliant.

Edward spent a good fifteen minutes running at top speed rolling the very top layer into a snowball. It was depressing to say the least. A vampire! Now when Edward finally panted, yes panted, that he was ready I could only shake my head and plunge my hand down into the deepest layer of snow.

I won't bore you with the details of the war of '88, suffice to say, Edward has a dent in his forehead that's never fully healed. I got a week of punishment cleaning from Esme because I didn't pull my 'punches'. Although, I suppose I'm jumping ahead. Edward isn't the picture of grace that _all_ vampires are. Sometimes Jasper and I think that something went wrong during his turning. Esme just clucks her tongue when we discuss it—like she _knows_ it's true.

Back to Edward's gracelessness, apparently his 'momentum' in tossing the snowball, underhanded, mind you, made him slip on the 'ice' that he was standing on. Of course he had to say he meant to do it, so he could make 'ice' angels.

For the remainder of winter, Esme demanded Edward help her with the 'arduous' housework. Ha, I would tell you about the time he nearly strangled himself with sheets while making the beds, though that's another story.

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1989-Kansas

Did I ever tell you about the time I caught Edward imitating Mary Poppins? No? Ah, well it was years ago now, we were in Kansas. Now I know what you're thinking, isn't Kansas pretty sunny? Well, you'd be right. Kansas is fairly sunny, but we lived way out in the country. Literally the middle of the middle of nowhere.

Being in the middle of the middle of nowhere was ideal, for Edward's sake. After what happened at Mardi Gras a few months back, well, let's just say Edward is under house arrest, for his own sake.

I guess it started when it was Carlisle's turn to babysit Edward. It was a rainy day, so Carlisle took Edward to the hospital with him.

Well, as Carlisle tells it, After Edward got into an argument with an amnesiac patient. He confined Edward to his office. Apparently, Carlisle told the nurse that his son was special needs—well it's not exactly a lie. Anyway, she thought she would help out the 'poor sweet dear' and put on a video for him. Well, the only available video was, to our despair, _Mary Poppins_.

Everything was okay until Edward came home and saw Esme's new decorative umbrella. To say Edward was a thespian would be far from the truth. Though his British accent was enough to fool the local country bumpkins, it grated on the other Cullen's—they had actually been to the Mother Country.

After Rose decked him for curtsying—we'll call that a sore wound—Edward retreated, with Esme's precious umbrella, to the barn.

Now, we assumed, as well we could, that he had gone off to sulk. It wasn't unusual. Although, what about Edward, being a telepathic, 'special', vampire, _was_ usual.

We were all watching reruns of the Woodstock footage—reminiscing if you will—and right in the middle of a Jimi Hendrix solo, came the loud, obnoxious, crowing noise. It wasn't a legitimate crow because well a cock's call never cracked like a teenage boy's voice.

Edward was crouching atop the barn roof. The actual rooster we had was glaring indignantly up at the usurper. Between you and me, I'd side with the rooster.

The point is, Edward proceeded to flourish the umbrella and tried to spin on the ridge of the roof. Did I mention Edward isn't all that graceful? I did? Oh good, well, as you can imagine, Edward would be, uh, the worst tightrope walker in the history of the circus. Edward failed remedial gymnastics at our last school—I think the balance beam still has a dent from where it and his face met.

Right so Edward on the room, with an umbrella, you know where this is going, right? Ah, well, Esme by this point was freaking out. Not only was her 'special' boy in 'danger', but so was her new expensive, decorative umbrella. Carlisle was used to this sort of stunt, and was already calling the family realtor. As it happened, every time Edward did something this stupid, he got a little phobic about where we lived. I always tell Alice that not so far down the road, we'll end up living on a plot of land so small Edward won't be able to stretch his limbs. But for now, it seems like we might end up in Brazil.

Jasper was trying to cover up his laughter. Of course he only succeeded when Edward popped the Umbrella open and leaped off the roof á la _Mary Poppins_. It might have looked cool—except he was screaming and flailing like a chicken with his head cut off. Although, that might have been a mercy.

I mentioned Edward and grace are non mixable things, right? Well then you can imagine the landing.

Until _really_ meeting Edward, I thought vampires were unbreakable—apparently you can't fight Mother Nature. And in this instance, she whipped Edward's ass right into traction. Of course, Esme helped keep him there when he used her umbrella to break his landing.

To you Edward I say this, Mary Poppins you are not.

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1993—Egypt

Family vacations are fun. Usually they end up being a research trip for our next home. Well, our trip to Egypt started that way, but the constant Sun caused Edward—and the rest of us a huge problem.

I'm telling this wrong. Let me try again.

Did I ever tell you about Edwards Emo phase? It started after he watched Romeo and Juliet—he got this absurd notion that if he tried to drink poison his Juliet would rush in and 'save' him because they were 'meant to be'.

It started on a balmy—and by balmy I mean burst into flame hot—day. It was tourist season, and while most people did their touristing during early morning, we were doing it at night. So the days had to be filled with something.

Edward figured out how to order room service. It would have been fine, except for the events that followed.

Well to be concise, Edward sobbed during Romeo and Juliet. Well that was the obvious part. The odd part would be when we found Edward on the couch—with a bottle of arsenic. He was crying, shuddering, it was disturbing to say the least. Although, I'm leaving out a few important details. Like he was clutching a cactus—where he got the cactus is a whole other story.

Back to the sobbing, cactus killer. Right, so there Edward sat, bottle of arsenic pressed against his lips. Though it wouldn't kill him, it wouldn't be pleasant for any of us when it came back up.

It came out later that Edward had been attempting to interrogate the cactus into giving up its secrets about getting its spikes so pointy. If vampires could get high—well without feeding on something that was high, which is hard to do for vegetarian vampires, although I think Edward has tried to get a bear to smoke a joint—I might think Edward was high.

Back to the arsenic, Edward was swallowing with abandon. And the thing to remember is that the longer things stay down, the worse they are when they come up. To be short, Edward was turning a nice metaphorical purple. He'd blocked his esophagus, and refused to let his body deal with the liquid.

It ended with Carlisle performing CPR to attempt to open Edward's airwaves and force the poison out. Everything was well and good until CPR became, to be polite, a massive come-on and the beginning of a triple-X film.

I almost felt bad for Carlisle when Edward fell head over heels in 'love' with him—I mean Edward kept mumbling about his 'sweet, sweet Juliet'. Yeah, I _almost_ felt bad for Carlisle and then Edward slapped handcuffs around him and Carlisle—that's when I called the divorce attorney I keep on speed dial for 'just in case's.

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1995—Mexico City

Have you ever seen an old—well to you—TV show called _Scooby Doo_? Thought you might have. Well my experience happened two days after Spring break of '95 ended. Why does that matter you may ask. Well it matters because the locals are still too stoned and drunk to watch anything but _Scooby Doo_. It's kind of like a stoner's call to arms.

Well it was the start of a seven day marathon. After Edward's mishap with a bull, Jasper had tied and duck taped Edward to the sofa. It wasn't a bad idea, in fact, I took Jasper out for veal as a reward—the only bad part, was the channel changer was under Edward's butt.

You've heard of butt-dialing the phone, right? Well apparently in the hours we left Edward alone, he perfected butt-surfing.

Now, if you haven't read _The Care and Feeding of Edward_ you may want to, it states in chapter two to never let Edward have a bone. Not a real bone, one of those metaphorical bones.

Well for an entire week _Scooby Doo_ was that bone.

When Esme, Rose, and Alice returned from the spa, Esme ordered Jasper and I to untie our 'brother'. To say we definitely weren't looking forward to that would be an understatement of epic proportions.

Edward chased us down the lane and into the desert for leaving him tied up—he got distracted pretty quickly once we passed a dog.

Everything seemed normal until the next Monday. I walked in from midnight bingo to find Edward pacing the living room on all fours. It didn't really freak me out until his tongue starting lolling and the barking started. Well that and his repeated 'rooby dooby doo's.

If that was the end of it, I would have suggested neutering him and being done. But to my disappointment, I found Jasper sitting on the refrigerator swearing harder than a Turkish sailor. Apparently Edward had decided he was Shaggy.

I envied him later when I found out I was Daphne. Not because I was a chick in Edward's mind, but because the idiot kept sticking his face in my crotch.

Esme, Rose, and Alice said it served me and Jasper right for what we did. Except here's the kicker, if you remember, it's Jasper that did the tying and taping.

Of course, when we came home one morning to find Edward in a clashing, mishmash of all three women's clothes there was hell to pay.

Things had gotten a bit out of hand. The ladies of the house begged and I mean begged Carlisle to take Edward to a shrink after three months of Shaggy, Daphne, Scooby, and cross dressing incidents. At that point, I was starting to wonder if we should register Edward as the first vampire dog with the Volturi.

I'm happy to report that the shrink worked. Edward hasn't done something stupid for an entire two hours—a veritable record where he's concerned.

Apparently hypnotism is the way to go these days—who knew you could hypnotize a vampire. Ah well, the point is, Edward has improved, well slightly. He's sloth like, depressed perpetually and a little suicidal at times…or is it worldicidal?

Ever since he predicted the end of the world to the entire town, we've been getting funny looks. I'm not saying it hasn't happened before, but usually it isn't because Edward is claiming to be a prophet of doom.

Carlisle says we might move to the west coast very soon, the unspoken portion of that conversation was one word: Edward. Sounds like fun to me. I wonder what in the hell Edward will do this time—deep down I sort of hope one of his strange predictions comes true and he decides to run off to the circus. Now that would be a story worth telling.

_~A short excerpt from The Truth About Edward: A Tell All by Emmett Cullen~_

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I hope you enjoyed, I had quite a bit of fun with this. I don't hate Edward, but he needs to have an ego burst every once in a while.


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